Attack on High-School Athletics
by Le Penguin
Summary: Sina High School goes through about a dozen different sports attempting to find a single one in which they can score a win against their arch-rivals, the Titans. Will they stop being abject failures before their school's funding gets butchered? (Eren/Armin)
1. Attack on Tennis

Sina High School was not known for its stellar sports program. It was, however, known for its ability to take everyone else down with it.

This semester they'd tried their hand at tennis, and through a dozen lost balls, a broken net, and an all-out brawl on the doubles court, had kept up the proud Sina tradition of losing to their arch-rivals from East High, the Titans. It wasn't a total wash, though. During the doubles massacre Eren had gotten to kneecap a Titan with his racquet, and it was sick as hell to watch Annie punch out that ref that'd gotten up in her face. And no one even got arrested this time – that was probably thanks to their new coach, Levi. There was a rumor going around school that he had connections in the mob and was fucking the chief of police.

There was probably a grain of truth to the rumor, Eren mused, as he glanced at Coach Levi polishing his pocket knife in the front seat of the team bus, with an oddly pleased expression on his face. He never made any secret of doing only coaching duty to fulfill his community service requirement.

Armin made a soft noise in his sleep, and adjusted his head more comfortably on Eren's shoulder. Eren nosed his hair and sighed. The doubles massacre had been set off by a Titan jeering across the court about how the reflection of the sun off Armin's braces was giving Sina an unfair advantage. Armin was sensitive about his teeth, so Eren did the right thing as his friend, doubles partner, and boyfriend by rushing over, vaulting the net, and breaking the strings of his racquet over the offending Titan's ugly fucking face. He'd gotten punched in the head for his trouble, and that'd sent Mikasa rushing the court to help, and like a well-oiled domino machine…was that the right metaphor? Eren thought to himself for a moment. Well, metaphors aside, the important thing was that the whole Sina team had jumped in to help by the end. Even Coach Hanji and Coach Levi were screaming at the Titans' coaches.

Mikasa sat on his other side on the bus seat, contentedly clicking through her e-reader. Annie snoozed quietly on the other side of the aisle, seats to herself, hoodie up and earbuds in. He heard Jean ranting up at the front of the bus how they'd get those Titans next time – Eren thought they'd gotten them pretty damn well this time. That asshole whose kneecaps he shattered sure wouldn't be talking shit about his boyfriend anymore, much less play sports.

Overall it was a real great experience.

Eren pressed a kiss to the top of Armin's head, and rested his chin there, closing his eyes.

"…since we haven't been invited back to the regional tennis championship next year, I think it's safe to say that the tennis team's down and out," Armin said. He rustled through some papers, frowning. "Back to the drawing board. If we raise some money with another car wash, maybe the school will let us back in the basketball court. I think they've probably gotten the lights back in the ceiling, by now."

Eren snorted. Bertholt was the only one of them who looked like he belonged on a basketball court, especially next to those hulking shithead Titans. Everyone knew they were all hopped up on ten kinds of steroids. Eren sprawled out more thoroughly on the floor of his bedroom, and gave a slow, easy stretch.

"Whatever we can get to face off with those fuckers one more time. I'll even do swim team again, so long as Jean doesn't insist on wearing that yellow sack wrap."

"Speedo. I don't think they've fixed the pool filter after last time, though. Or gotten the stains off the walls."

Eren's mouth twitched with pride at the memory. Armin gave him a good-natured swat to the forehead with a rolled-up liability form.

"Don't get too proud. We need to start winning games."

"I don't see how tennis was a lose for us. They certainly didn't win."

Armin gave him a flat stare. "A win in a sporting event is a determined by a demonstration of your skill at playing the game. Not by putting the other team in traction."

"…coming from the guy whose plays landed us our perma-ban from football?"

Armin's mouth twitched, and he suddenly became very invested in tapping his sheaves of paper perfectly in line. After a fashion, he replied,

"…I no longer retain liability for my actions when I hear our female teammates being collectively referred to as 'a bunch of dykes.' Regardless of how many times Ymir called the descriptor apt."

Armin took off his glasses to rub at his eyes, sighing. He wore contacts for games, even if they bothered his eyes, and pulled his hair back into a tiny ponytail. The ponytail was still there, Eren noted, and his fingers itched to snag the hair-tie; to let Armin's hair fall and settle at his chin.

"We need to start winning games," Armin repeated, firmly. "Or else our school's funding gets hacked to bits. No more arts, no more music - "

"No more chances to kneecap people," Eren added. It was a pretty terrible fate to be had.

Armin whapped him again with the paper. Eren reached up to steal his hair-tie, and, stretching it across his fingers, shot it across the room.

They should let him handle plays sometime, and not just Armin. Sometimes his plans landed the team in court, sure, but sometimes they made Armin give him that _smile_. Sometimes they made Armin lean down to press his lips against the side of Eren's mouth, his hair tickling at Eren's cheeks. Eren reached up to smooth Armin's hair back with his fingers; his hand settling at the back of his head, holding him there, right in place. Armin's own hand came to rest on Eren's jaw, to tilt it so their lips met.

A great end to a great day, Eren thought, as his other arm looped around Armin's waist to pull him down to rest on top of him. He got to make a bunch of fuckers bleed and got to make out with his boyfriend. Armin gave a soft moan and parted his lips, his tongue darting out to trace Eren's teeth. A _great_ end to a _great_ day, and, oh god, Armin's thigh was in a _great_ position –

There was a knock at the door. Of course there was. Armin froze and scrambled off Eren hastily. Eren glowered at the door with the deepest rage a blueballed teenager could fathom.

"Dinner's ready, boys," Eren's mother called from the other side. "Mikasa's stopped by to visit, too."

At least she was considerate enough to not barge in, Eren grumbled to himself. Facing your mother with a raging hard-on was just super awkward for everyone.

"Be down in a sec."

Eren heaved a loud, heavy sigh. Armin was back to straightening his papers, his cheeks stained red. He looked over at Eren, hesitant.

"…I was thinking maybe baseball next time?"

Eren stared at the ceiling, thoughtfully. Baseball. You could kneecap someone real pretty with those bats.

Baseball sounded good.


	2. Attack on Baseball

Bottom of the ninth. Bases loaded. Down to the last bat. Literally, in this instance, as Eren had broken all the spares. It was really weird that tennis racquets were more durable than baseball bats in a brawl, Eren mused, only half-listening to Jean waving his captain dick around in their team huddle. Blah blah, hustle, blah, reach for the stars, blah, stop physically attacking the other team or we'll get a no contest again, blah…

Their cheerleading squad was getting pretty hyped up this game; probably because they hadn't been allowed to cheer during the tennis match. Some bullshit about cheer squads disrupting the game.

"Massacre them!" Krista shrieked through her megaphone from atop her precarious perch on Bertholt's shoulders. "Flay the skin from their bones and sacrifice their filthy meat to the deep old gods! Can I get my Scouts to say what!?"

"…what?" Bertholt offered, hesitantly.

"LOUDER!" Krista screamed.

"WHAT! WHAT!" Bertholt hastily screamed back, shaking his single pom-pom for emphasis.

What the Scouts' cheer team lacked in numbers, they made up for in enthusiasm. Bertholt had retired from being in the line of fire after the team's dabbling in basketball; he hadn't been on-board with Eren's plan to scale him and use him as a springboard to Mario-hop across the court on the heads of the Titans. Eren didn't know why, it'd gone great. The refs were too busy arguing with themselves on whether it was a breach of physicality or dribbling rules, and Eren managed to score like seven slam-dunks in the meantime. Then things had gotten a little out of hand and by the end of it the gym's lighting fixtures were shattered across the floor and Eren had needed seventeen stitches. It'd been called as a fucking "no contest" – like hell; they had at least thirty points on the Titans before the ceiling collapsed –

"…and that's the long and short of our plan for this next inning, alright?" Armin finished, gesturing to the whiteboard.

Eren's ears burned. He'd been so busy ignoring Jean by reminiscing about grinding his sneakers into a Titan's face, he'd ignored Armin – and completely missed whatever they were supposed to be doing next, besides. He squinted at the writing on the board, trying to parse Armin's shorthand, when Mikasa leaned over to him.

"You are fourth to bat. You'll be bunting after the first three of us hit deep into the field, to throw them off," Mikasa explained. "Armin says the second baseman is heavily favoring his non-dominant left side, and to approach appropriately. "

"That's probably because I shattered a bat against his skull."

"Was it the right side of his skull?"

"Think so."

"Then that is likely."

Eren thought for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak.

"No," Mikasa preemptively stated.

Eren prickled. "You didn't even-"

"Mario-hopping is no more allowed in baseball than it is in basketball."

Eren sulked all the way back to the bench.

He didn't wind up getting to go to bat and test the legality of the Mario-hop in a baseball setting, anyway – Ymir broke their last bat over the head of the first-baseman when he made a crude pass at Krista. Another no contest, another game ban. They came close enough to winning for Coach Hanji to spring for a pizza party after, though.

Spooning while playing Mario Kart was difficult for both parties involved, but determination went a long way into making it work.

"Sometimes I really wonder how any sporting event even accepts us anymore," Armin sighed, squirming in his position as the little spoon.

"I thought it was because Coach Levi got us in good with the cops?" Eren nipped at the skin behind Armin's ear, and took advantage of the distraction it caused to weave in front of Armin and steal first place and the race. Yoshi once more takes the cup. Armin grumbled and drove his elbow into Eren's side in retaliation until Eren oofed. Toad once more was a sore loser.

"It's the trainwreck appeal, more likely. Haven't you seen the news teams reporting on us? They call our matches against the Titans 'the closest you can get to a real-life Hunger Games.'"

"Awesome, I love that series. Can we make an archery team next?"

Armin chuckled low in his throat, and tilted his head back to kiss the underside of Eren's chin. "I don't think they'd trust any of us with projectile weapons, not now."

Eren cupped Armin's chin with his hand, and turned his head to press his lips to Armin's. Armin sighed, his arms coming to loop around Eren's neck, and – with a gentle turn and tug – moved them to lie on the floor.

Please. Please. Please. Please no parental interruptions or unexpected visitors. Eren was a healthy fifteen-year-old boy, and the only thing he wanted more than murdering their rival sports team was to frequently and continuously hump Armin's leg like a desperate golden retriever. With his mom home all the time, with Armin's grandpa home all the time, it made opportunities such as these preciously rare.

All the more reason to take advantage of said opportunity when it presented itself. Eren snuck his hand under Armin's cardigan, and at Armin's tiny, eager noise of encouragement, rucked it up under Armin's arms. Armin seized the back of Eren's t-shirt and gave an insistent tug, and – although he had to break the kiss to do so – Eren was happy to oblige and divest himself of it. Armin gave a soft, pleased sigh, his eyes drifting from Eren's face to his arms. Eren felt no little twinge of pride, both in his heart, and in his cock.

Eren bent to nuzzle his face against Armin's warm, firm stomach. He wasn't ripped like Reiner, or Mikasa – Eren was ninety-nine percent sure he'd seen Mikasa break a washboard in half with her abs, but maybe that was a dream – but he could still throw down the hurt in whatever game they were playing this month. And washboards weren't quite as nice to kiss, added Eren, with a punctuating touch of lips.

Armin whimpered his name as Eren moved to unfasten Armin's pants, to slide them off his hips, to wrap his hand around Armin's cock. Armin's nails dug into his shoulders, and his head fell back to the floor, mouth open and wet. Eren felt the dryness of his own mouth keenly at the sight of it.

Too long. Too long since they'd had an evening to themselves, too long since he'd been able to look at Armin's skin outside of a locker room. Eren's thumb rubbed at the head of Armin's cock, rough and eager, and thrilled at Armin's hand flying to his mouth to stifle his moan. They shared so much, as friends, schoolmates, teammates, boyfriends; all of their time was time together, and yet it was never enough. If only they could be like this all the time – Armin flushed and shaking, whimpering Eren's name, and Eren – hard, and ready, and wanting to grab Armin by the shoulders and stuff him into his mouth…

Eren blinked away the odd thought. …well, maybe not _that_ odd. He considered the teachings of the porn squirreled away on his computer, and the half-naked Armin before him, and made the decision to press his mouth to Armin's cock.

Armin's eyes snapped open, and oh god, the look on Armin's face when he gave an experimental lick. Eren's cock throbbed painfully, and he gave himself a few rubs through his pants to focus himself again. Focus. Focus on making Armin feel good. Focus on what the porn taught you. Eren wrapped his hand around the base, and pressed his lips to the head, and tried to work his way down – Armin's cock was so hot on his tongue, and he'd always known that he'd taste this good—

Armin gave an almost surprised shout, and his body tensed all at once. Eren choked, and coughed up the bitter, salty result. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked down at Armin – Armin, hands pressed to his face, skin cherry-red with mortification.

"I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry," Armin said, over and over, in a small, quiet voice.

Eren tried to parse the statement. What was there to be sorry for? Wasn't getting off the point of getting off? Eren grimaced, and grabbed Armin's wrists, dragging his hands from his face.

"Stop it. Look at me."

Armin peeked one eye open. Eren pressed a soft kiss to his temple, and Armin gave a quivering sigh.

"I…I could. To you," Armin said. He made a vague gesture. "But um. My braces, they might…"

It was not the first time that Armin's braces had thrown a wrench into their nights together. Eren had them as well at one point – had gotten them at the same time as Armin, in a show of solidarity. In retrospect, it should have been expected that they would've gotten stuck together the first time they attempted to kiss after. Several frantic texts had gotten Mikasa to come over and untangle them before their parents got home, but the whole experience had left Armin humiliated, and not very eager to participate in any future smooching sessions. Eren had responded by popping his own braces off with pliers, which had upset his parents to no end, but if having janky teeth meant that he could kiss his boyfriend again, he would deal.

He didn't exactly mind being the designated blowjob giver for the time being, either.

"That's okay, if you could just…with your hand, anyway," Eren mumbled, undoing his pants with shaking hands. God. If _giving_ Armin a blowjob made him feel like this, he didn't think he could even _handle_ getting one.

Armin's hands came to rest on his, soft and steady. He laced their fingers together, and gave a little tug for Eren to lie on top of him. Eren's cock pressed into Armin's bare thigh, and he groaned thickly, giving a few, unsteady thrusts. Armin's breath ghosted against his neck, and he set his lips to his pulse point. He freed one hand to stroke down Eren's back with his knuckles as his mouth worked at his neck, and gave his ass a short, appreciative squeeze before reaching between their bodies for Eren's cock.

Eren's breath hissed, short, frantic – between the press of Armin's hand and the softness of his thighs, and the memory of Armin's face as he took his cock into his mouth, Armin barely had to give him a minute's attention to have him cursing and coming on him. Armin squeezed his other hand, tight, and buried his face in Eren's hair. Eren focused on trying to breathe again.

A few minutes of companionable silence passed, with Armin gently rubbing Eren's back with his knuckles. Eren only belatedly realized he was purring from the attention. Armin gave him a quick kiss to the forehead.

"So. You going to do that any time you cheat at Mario Kart?" he asked.

Eren grumbled against Armin's shoulder. "Don't hate on Yoshi. 's fuckin' god tier."


	3. Attack on Summer Camp, Part 1

Eren had been to summer camp, once, as a kid. It was a memorable few weeks – making popsicle stick sculptures, building fires, being banned from building fires, wandering off from group nature walks with Armin and Mikasa, watching as Armin charcoaled leaves into his scrapbook with careful, eager hands, wandering off to get pretty leaves for Armin to sketch, bringing back pretty leaves, no Eren, oh no no, that's poison ivy, oh gosh –

...it was a very itchy few weeks, actually. Whether it was the poison ivy or the fires, Eren hadn't been invited back the next year, and Armin and Mikasa declined going without him.

Maybe this time would be different.

"The school is dumping valuable money on sending you all to training camp." Coach Levi glowered tiredly over his shoulder, and heaved a heavy sigh. "And god fucking help me, we're your counselors."

"Don't be such a negative nancy, we'll have loads of fun!" Coach Hanji rumpled Levi's hair, and only narrowly missed being clawed for it. "Now, everyone, we've gotten your training schedules written up – we'll just need your parents to sign the release forms."

As the Scouts' sports career got more and more illustrious, there seemed to be more and more release forms to be signed. Hanji thunked folders the size of phonebooks onto each team member's desk. There looked to be a new section, this time, in addition to the training camp papers – maybe the school had finally caught wind of Hanji bringing her pet pythons to practice on Thursdays.

Eren felt a chill run down his spine, and slowly looked over his shoulder to the desk behind him. Sawney, the fifteen-footer, stared back at him, a thoughtful look in its beady eyes. Eren spared a brief, panicked thought to where the desk's previous occupant had ended up (oh good, Marco had just absconded to the relative safety of the coatroom). Sawney's tongue flicked out to give Eren's cheek a tender taste.

"Aww, does this tiny baby want to be a camper too?" Hanji cooed.

She lifted the sombrero from Sawney's head to press a kiss there, and readjusted the elastic on his chin more comfortably. Hanji always had them sporting headgear in school colors. She said it was to increase school spirit. She also gave that as the reason why she let them roam around freely in the gym and team room. Eren guessed they made more imposing mascots than the Scouts' official one, Squawkers the Eagle. Especially since Bertholt was the only one who could fit in the mascot suit, and he was never very enthusiastic about it. The coaches didn't bother having him wear it anymore; the sight of a depressed eagle dolefully swaying back and forth to pump-up music was less than inspiring during games. Being Krista's personal grandstand was a major step up for him.

It was Levi who finally stormed over with a can of disinfecting wipes. "You're all dismissed," he grumbled, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. He shoved at Sawney irritably, until Hanji huffed and gathered the snake into her arms, guiding him gently to the floor. Levi scrubbed at the desk as he spoke. "Get those papers to me by Monday. Camp starts at the beginning of next month. Pack your bags, and I swear to god, if you forget any of your shit at home, I am kicking you off the bus and you can walk."

A bloodcurdling scream came from the coatroom, and Marco sprinted out, lunging onto the nearest desk. Bean, the twenty-footer, sidled out of the coatroom after, blinking with sleepy eyes.

"Come on, sleepyhead, let's get you and your brother into your walkie and get along home," Hanji said, wheeling out the modified baby carriage. "Mama's got a nice big ratpile all waiting for snackums!"

The room became much less tense after Hanji strolled out of the room, humming, reptiles in tow. Eren crammed the forms into his backpack messily, and heaved the whole thing onto his back. Armin, used to carrying heavy books, clutched his folder to his chest; Mikasa held hers easily under one arm.

"So," Eren said. "Camp."

"The training regimen looks strict," Armin said. "But it should be a good team-building experience. And it's a better way to spend a week or two of summer than just sitting around the house."

Eren could think of a few better ways to spend a week or two of summer. He rested his arm on Armin's shoulder as they walked and let his mind wander to think about those ways a bit more thoroughly. Some of the ways could be amended quite amenably to a camping setting, Eren decided, after careful deliberation.

He'd just be more careful with the poison ivy, this time.

Armin's house was huge and old, with a library of equal measure. Armin's grandpa was some big-name literary guy at the local university, and his collection was free for Armin to browse – a payment, of sorts, for Armin having to deal with a constant barrage of his grandfather's groupies ("Artlet? _The_ Artlet?" Yeah, the one and only, and if you don't step the fuck back, _the_ Jaeger will gladly make you.) The library was Armin's place of choice to do his schoolwork, his team planning, and his leisure reading; Eren liked it well enough, himself. The carpet was nice and plush to flop around on while he played his handheld.

Eren cast a sullen look at the book Armin was focused on, and tried to get back to his own task; fucking up Jean's town in Animal Crossing. Armin had signed up for a million summer classes at his grandfather's university, as usual, and was balls-deep in the required reading. …oh, but that was an unfortunate turn of phrase. Eren only briefly mourned as his attention was inexorably pulled to the way Armin's legs carelessly dangled from the plush chair where he sat. He scooted over on his stomach, and dragged himself up; headbutting Armin's knees to announce his presence. Armin lowered his book, and raised an amused eyebrow.

"Out of batteries already?" he asked.

Eren rested his chin on Armin's knee, attempting to look pitiful and pleading. It worked on some level; Armin gave a low chuckle, and smoothed one hand into Eren's hair to provide head-scritches. Eren groaned and settled his head more comfortably against Armin's leg. Even if Armin still had the book in his other hand, this was not an unacceptable situation. Armin was a peerless student, a peerless strategist, and peerless also in the art of head-scritches. Armin's hand wandered to scratch behind Eren's ear, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head. It was all he could do to not start thumping his leg against the ground like a fucking dog.

Blissed-out as he felt, however, this was not how Eren had intended his break from gaming to go – and he had not yet convinced Armin to take a break from his homework. Eren turned his face to nip at Armin's thigh, and felt his skin burn at the sound of Armin's tiny gasp.

He turned until he was kneeling at the foot of the chair. Chin resting again on Armin's knee, he lightly traced his fingers up the inside of his thigh; up, and further, until his hand smoothed up to curl around Armin's hipbone. All the while, Armin steadfastly hid his face behind his book, his other hand still in Eren's hair; fingers curled tight in the strands.

"Armin." Eren turned his head to nip at the inside of Armin's wrist.

Armin's eyes peeked down at him from the top of his book. "…I still have forty pages of reading."

Eren rolled his head against Armin's knee, giving a pitiful whine. The hand on Armin's hip crept upward, teasing Armin's shirt up to expose a pale sliver of skin. Armin breathed a heavy sigh, and set the book down on the table beside him.

"You win," he murmured, with no bitterness to be heard.

Eren grinned, and surged up to press a kiss to that tempting patch of skin between shirt and waistband. Armin sucked in a tight breath, and breathed it out as a whimper when Eren moved lower, to mouth at his hardening cock through his pajama shorts. Eren had been practicing – _they'd _been practicing, he amended. His mouth drifted back to Armin's thigh, one hand working Armin's cock through his pants, the other rucking up the leg of the loose shorts to latch his mouth to the skin there, sucking eagerly. Armin's role in increasing Eren's skill at giving blowjobs was vital; necessary. Eren learned by doing, and there was no more pleasant person to do it unto.

He bit kisses up Armin's thigh, tugging up the leg of his shorts as he went, until he saw fit to bury his face in the warm juncture of his hip. Eren tugged at the waistband of Armin's shorts, drawing them down, and shimmying them further off Armin's legs. He couldn't be bothered to draw back far enough to pull them off completely, not with Armin's cock so hard and ready for his mouth, not with Armin looking at him with those eyes. He licked his lips, and Armin's cheeks flushed an even darker red, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Eren," he whined, desperately. "Please…please…"

Eren swallowed hard, and snuck his hand into his shorts to give his own cock some attention. He'd have to remember the lip-licking thing. Armin's heat, Armin's scent, Armin's tiny, shuddering breaths, and the pull of his fingers in his hair – fuck, Eren didn't know which of them enjoyed this more. Eren licked up the underside of Armin's cock, getting it wet, and pressed his lips to the head. He tasted so good – he tasted so _fucking_ good. Eren couldn't help from moaning as he took his cock further into his mouth, the heat and scent and _taste_ making his own cock throb, just as he felt Armin's cock throb on his tongue. Armin's thighs shivered, hands clenching and unclenching in Eren's hair. Eren glanced up to Armin's face, to see that wet mouth with its bitten lips. He hadn't even stopped to kiss Armin before going straight in for his cock, Eren realized, with guilt. He'd make it up to him after; press kisses all over his neck and face before sealing their mouths together to drink him in –

Armin choked out Eren's name, one hand flying to his mouth to stifle his cry as his muscles stiffened. Eren swallowed thickly, pulling back to gasp for breath, and pressed his face against Armin's hip to steady himself as he jerked off roughly into his hand. Armin's hand stroked his hair, weakly, and Eren glanced up. Armin's hair was mussed in a gold halo against the chair's plush back, his eyes dark, and his lips curved up, sweet and soft.

Eren groaned, and sank his teeth into Armin's skin, his whole body shaking as he came himself dry.

He was out cold for a good few minutes, and only came back to himself when he felt Armin's hands under his arms, pulling him up to curl into the chair with him. After they arranged themselves more comfortably – Armin, sitting on Eren's lap sideways, legs dangling off the side of the chair – Eren set to making good on his pledge to make it rain kisses on Armin's face.

"Eren," Armin laughed, delighted, as Eren made his way across his cheeks and down his jawline. "Tickles."

Oh, he'd show him ticklish. Eren pressed his lips to Armin's as he drove his fingers into Armin's sides, swallowing down the shriek of laughter it produced. The issue with starting a tickle fight with someone who'd known you since you were five is that it was a path to mutually assured destruction – while Armin couldn't reach his true weak spot (feet) from his position, he could reach his underarms, and did so mercilessly until they'd successfully wrestled each other out of the chair and onto the floor into a heap of tangled limbs. They lay there on the floor, catching their breath; Armin's head pillowed on Eren's chest. Eren was certain Armin could hear his heart, it beat so loud. He set his hand on Armin's back, trying to feel out the beat of his.

"Reading's not due until the end of next week," Armin murmured. He turned his head to gaze at him, steadily. "Dunno how much privacy we'll have at camp."

Well. Fucking up Jean's town could wait for a while, Eren decided.


	4. Attack on Summer Camp, Part 2

"For summer camp, this has been really lame," Eren grumbled into the dirt.

The picnic benches near the lake offered a peaceful place to rest and enjoy the beauty of nature. Eren expressed his deep dissatisfaction with life by eschewing the benches in favor of lying face-down on the ground. Armin's bare feet rubbed soothing circles into his back while he fiddled with something in his hands, occasionally leaning over to snag more supplies from the table, or exchange words with Mikasa over their progress on the project. They had offered to make Eren a part of it, but no – he was too deep in the throes of psychological torment to focus on anything else; anything other than his life's determination, and how it was being foiled by this poor excuse for camp.

"I don't know what you were expecting from training camp. Laps, strength training, team-building exercises; it's all pretty standard, even with Coach Hanji and Levi as the masterminds."

Eren despaired. Even Armin was against him, now. Couldn't he _see?_

"We could've done all that at home," Eren retorted, a bit louder than necessary. "And not wasted our time coming out here; leaving the town undefended to let those Titan fuckers do whatever they _want _with it—"

"Eren."

That single, solitary word from Mikasa spoke of a myriad of judgment. Eren tried to rise from the dirt to shriek his cause from the tabletop, but Armin's feet pressed more firmly onto his back, tenderly massaging with renewed determination. Eren's rage could not stand at full force to the assault, but he barreled on, regardless.

"Remember when we all went on that day trip to the rock-climbing place in the city!? They broke into the school and kidnapped Squawkers!"

"Yes, the mascot costume that we don't even use," Armin said, gently, slowly. His feet moved to massage the back of Eren's neck, and Eren felt his body involuntarily slack into relaxation at the assault. Abandonment. Betrayal. Eren's heart could no longer bear it, and he felt tears prickle at the sides of his eyes. Armin was killing him softly with his words. And his tiny, adorable feetsies. "They were fined for breaking and entering, and we got the costume back the next day."

"It was a planned assault on our one stronghold," Eren said through gritted teeth, trying not to sob out the words. "Meant to, meant to demoralize us, to kill our spirit—"

Eren heard the snip of scissors, and Armin's feet moved off his back. Armin knelt down beside him.

"I think you really give the Titans too much credit. We've all met them, and know that the concept of psychological warfare is a bit beyond them. Their school has the lowest test scores in the state for a reason," he said, tying a colorful bracelet to Eren's wrist.

Eren stared at the bracelet, uncomprehending. He glanced to Armin with tearful eyes. Armin smiled, showing the matching bracelet on his own wrist.

"We found some craft supplies in storage. Will making friendship bracelets with Mikasa and me help make camp a little less of a time-waster?"

The tears began to flow freely down Eren's cheeks, the colors of the bracelet blurring in his vision. His heart felt swollen to bursting. A friendship bracelet. How could he have been so blind? His and Armin's hopes and dreams were intertwined, inexorably, bright and beautiful as the colored thread that Armin had so carefully braided for him. For _them._

"…Eren? Are you okay?"

They truly were eternal and infinite as the bracelet's circle symbolized. He had been so foolish to almost let the Titans split a rift between them – had Armin not proven time and again that his careful, methodical approach was an irreplaceable boon to the team? And yet Eren had been so quick to write him off as a traitor to their cause. Eren's tears soaked the dirt beneath his face, his breath heaving in quick sobs, his hand holding Armin's as tight as he could.

"I, oh, oh god, Mikasa, Mikasa help; I think he's hyperventilating! Help me get him to the first aid center!"

Were they not one? Was their love not true? Had they not grown together, and laughed together, and hurt together? For so many years…

For so many years…

"Coach Hanji! Please, Eren's—"

"Whoa! Is he foaming at the mouth? Geez, didn't I warn you guys not to eat the purple berries…"

_For so many years…_

"_Try and make some friends, Eren. For your mother's sake."_

Eren stared at his father sullenly as he waved and drove away. He wasn't a hundred percent behind this whole "preschool" thing. It sounded very suspicious. With his daddy at work, and him stuck in this strange building all day, who would be there to make sure his mommy didn't get eaten up by a roaming monster? Eren watched television, Eren knew. It could happen.

Still, Eren thought, as he trudged up the steps, yanking on his backpack straps. Still, his mommy had asked him to go. (Eren had set up monster traps around the yard the night before, just to be safe.) His mommy had asked him to make friends, and had put two cookies in his lunchbox so he could share. None of the other kids in the neighborhood liked him, and the feeling was mutual. This preschool place was his last chance to make good on his promise to her. He'd learned a lot from watching television, about magic voodoo spells especially. All he would need is a chunk of hair from one of the kids in there, some salt, and a few magic words, and boom, instant friend.

He thought of the scissors smuggled in his backpack, the big metal ones from the kitchen, and set forth into the building with renewed purpose.

The classroom he was escorted into was fraught with chaos. The children who weren't running around the room aimlessly shrieking were mostly gathered around a table heaped with paints and crayons; smearing themselves with the supplies rather than any of the paper in front of them. Eren looked around, frantically – which one of these kids was the least annoying-looking? Certainly not that idiot over there in the cowboy hat, riding a stick pony. The black-haired girl he was trying to talk to stomped on his foot and walked away without a word. She seemed kind of okay, maybe. Maybe that blond girl in the corner, bouncing a ball and glaring at the rest of the room, but looking her over, it seemed like it'd be pretty tough to wrestle her down and get some hair off of her –

"You must be Eren. I'm Mrs. Ackerman; your teacher."

Eren stared up at the lady who had interrupted his thoughts. This was an intolerable rudeness, but she seemed nice enough. Eren was not beyond granting forgiveness. A question remained, though:

"How do you know my name?" Eren asked, suspiciously. This preschool place was looking sketchier and sketchier.

Mrs. Ackerman smiled. "I'm a friend of your mommy's, though I don't think you've seen me since you were just a baby. She used to bring you over to play with my little girl Mikasa, over there—" She gestured to the corner, where the black-haired girl and the blond girl were now bouncing the ball forcefully back and forth between them. Rats. They had already performed the friendship ritual. Eren would have to keep looking. "Why don't you go put your bag in your cubby on the wall, and go sit over there by the window? That little boy who's reading alone over there is named Armin, and I think he could use some company."

Eren followed Mrs. Ackerman's pointing finger, and his eyes settled on the blond boy at the window. The sun shone off his hair, so bright and gold. Eren's eyes went wide, and his hands clutched at his backpack straps so tight that his fingers begin to tingle. He scurried over to the cubbies on the wall to messily stuff his things in, and drew out the scissors. He had to perform the friendship ritual on Armin, _now_, before someone stole him away.

Hiding the scissors behind his back, he approached Armin's table, slowly. He stood over him for a moment, staring. Armin hadn't noticed him, yet; too engrossed in his book – Eren knew how to read a little, but it looked like it had a lot of hard words in it. It had lots of pretty pictures of the jungle, though. Armin's hair fell over his face as he read, and he kept brushing it back with his hand…Eren swallowed hard, his hands beginning to sweat against the cold metal of the scissors. His original plan was to storm into preschool and wrestle down the first decent friendship candidate for a quick snip-snip, but…Armin seemed so nice, and wasn't like the other annoying kids in the room. And his hair was just so _pretty_, on his head.

Armin had gone still. He turned to look up at Eren, shyly. His eyes were blue like the sky and his shirt had a koala on it. It suited him well, Eren thought. Armin and koalas were both small and cute and fluffy. Eren took a deep breath, and brandished the scissors in front of him.

"I…I'm Eren, and I know you're Armin because the teacher told me. I…" Eren went quiet, his eyes flickering from the scissors, to Armin. Armin looked nervous, and had clutched his book closer to his chest, tucking his face behind it. His eyes peeked over the top.

He…couldn't bring himself to do it. Eren sniffled as he lowered the scissors, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. He'd broken his promise to his mommy, and…and, Armin seemed so _nice_, and Eren wanted to be his friend even beyond that promise. But without the friendship ritual, it just couldn't be. He…just didn't know how, without it. Eren dropped the scissors to the ground with a clatter, and let out a sob.

"Will you still be my friend even without magic?" he asked, wretchedly. "I have two cookies in my lunchbox…"

After a long, long pause, Armin gave the tiniest of nods. Eren almost couldn't process the gesture, and stared at him, dumbly, all tears and snot.

"…do…do you want to sit with me?" Armin whispered, unsure, as if unused to speaking aloud. "I'm reading about the jungle."

Eren wiped his face with his sleeve, and slumped in a chair next to Armin. He always gave himself the hiccups when he got upset. "I like the jungle," he said, quietly. He poked the koala on Armin's shirt. "Koalas are from Australia. They live in the jungle and eat leaves."

Armin nodded, turning to face Eren, just the barest bit more. "My mommy and daddy are scientists. Marine biologists," he said, pronouncing the word carefully and clearly. "They're gone most of the time to study other places, so I live with my grandpa. But last year they took me on a trip to Australia with them. I went with them on a boat and hugged a koala before that."

Eren's eyes went wide. The idea of travelling that far was thrilling. The idea of hugging a koala, equally so. Eren tried to visualize Armin hugging a koala, and felt his tummy go all funny. It sounded really, _really_ cute.

Armin dropped his gaze back to his book, tracing his fingers over a picture of the ocean. "I like the jungles, but I like the ocean even better. I want to be a marine biologist too, so I can be with them more. And study all the things in the water, too."

"I can help," Eren said, urgently, eagerly. "I'll study with you and we can go together. I'll keep you and your mommy and daddy safe in the water. There are sharks there."

Armin shook his head. "Sharks only kill about one person a year," he said, matter of fact. "There are way scarier things in Australia. The top five most poisonous snakes in the world are found there, you know…"

Eren listened to the lecture on Australia's venomous beasties, rapt.

The friendship ritual had been sealed.

Eren blinked open his eyes, blearily, to Armin's worried face. He groaned, his hand drifting up to touch the wet washcloth on his forehead.

"Where…"

"The first-aid center," Armin said, hands moving to Eren's shoulders to keep him lying down. "You passed out while we were at the lake. Coach Hanji thinks you just got overheated in the sun…"

Armin glowered at where Sawney sat on a nearly table. "_You_ can leave now. Eren's still alive."

Sawney flicked his tongue out irritably and slid down from the table, primly slithering out of the room; no doubt to find less well-guarded snacks to stalk.

Eren shook his head, blearily. "No, I…I was just having a flashback…"

If anything, the clarification seemed to make Armin more concerned. Mikasa looked him over from her chair at his bedside, frankly.

"I feel as though not being able to expend his energy directly on games against our opponent has taken its toll on his emotional state," she said.

Eren tried to struggle upright against Armin's pleas. "I was just having a moment! Show some respect over the meaning of friendship bracelets!"

"Why don't we get you over to the bathrooms, so you can wash your face!" Armin interrupted desperately, catching Eren's flailing hands in his. He rubbed at Eren's knuckles with his thumbs, soothing, and leaned in to give a quick peck to his nose. "You've still got a few smudges from rolling around at the lake."

Soothed despite himself, Eren allowed Armin to help him out of bed and guide him to the bathrooms, Mikasa dutifully following behind – to provide either assistance or restraint as needed, no doubt, Eren thought begrudgingly.

As Armin's hands went to turn on the taps, he heard voices from beyond the thin bathroom walls. Curious, he grabbed Armin's wrist to stop him, and craned his ears to catch the source.

"…missing supplies…missing food, too. Went through the kids' cabins today while they were training to check if it was any of them, and nothing."

Eren pressed his ear closer to the wall to listen. The coaches were discussing what seemed to be a matter of grave import.

"Sure it wasn't Blaus for the food? Or your damn snakes?" came Coach Levi's reply. "Don't doubt that either of them could put this big a dent in our inventory…"

"Unless they're able to cart off and chow down on a third of our canned goods in one night, I doubt it," said Coach Hanji. "And what would she or my babies want with bandages and painkillers? I already had to drive down to town to stock up again last week; if we get hit again by whoever's doing this, our budget can't handle it. We're gonna have to take the team home early…"

Eren's eyes went wide. His mind was not the finely-honed razor that Armin's was, but he could put together the simple facts.

One: mysterious individuals were stealing their food and medical supplies.

Two: without these supplies, the Scouts' camp would have to be cut short, forcing them back home without the training they had come for. Leaving them wide open to Titan attack.

One plus two equaled Titans.

Armin's expression was full of concern as he watched Eren's mental calculus. "Eren," he said slowly. "Mikasa and I heard that too. Let's let the coaches handle this, and see how it pans out—"

Eren's fist met the wall. "First Squawkers, now this," he said, darkly. With grim determination, he seized Armin by the hand, and raced out of the bathroom, Mikasa easily jogging along beside them. "We're gonna spread the word. Team meeting in the Boys' Cabin, tonight."

The team had been surprisingly receptive to Eren's call for a meeting – he'd made sure to scream it extra loud over the loudspeakers, after all. ("Do you really think the coaches didn't hear that?" Armin had asked, mournfully. Let them hear it, and join in this battle.) Even Annie, who rarely showed up to even regular team meetings, was hovering in the back, one eyebrow arched. And so, Eren presented the evidence: missing food, missing supplies. The fate of training camp hanging in the balance.

"So what are you suggesting we do?" Jean asked, doubtfully. "Just sit around outside the supply building every night until they hit it again?"

"That's _exactly _what I'm suggesting," Eren snapped back. "'Cause those supplies clearly need guarding. According to what I overheard from Coach Hanji, their last attack was last week, so they've gotta be coming back soon. We post some of us to watch the building nightly, we take shifts; we set traps, and we wait them out."

Armin raised a weary hand. "Aside from my doubts that these thefts were organized by our rival team," he began. "May I ask how we should explain our sudden lack of a proper sleep schedule to the coaches?"

"Mountain lions!" offered Connie, eagerly. "Mountain lions roaring all night and keeping us awake. I gotta say, I'm feeling what Jaeger's saying – what else are we supposed to do, when someone's trying to starve us out of here? Titans or no."

Sasha's eyes burned fiercely as she nodded. "I ain't gonna get starved out. We're gonna hunt them down and take back what's ours."

Connie raised both of his hands, and Sasha put down the pocket knife that she was ominously sharpening to begin their secret handshake. Said secret handshake could take up to ten minutes to complete, so Eren left them to it, and continued around the room for participants. His gaze landed on Bertholt, who donned a panicked look and attempted unsuccessfully to hide behind Reiner.

"This is revenge for Squawkers, Bertholt! Are you with us!?"

Bertholt stared at Reiner, helplessly. Reiner gave a cocky smile, and clapped his hand over Bertholt's, squeezing.

"Revenge for Squawkers!" he confirmed. "You with me, Bertl?"

Bertholt sighed and averted his gaze to the ground, nodding weakly. "…I hated that costume…" he mumbled.

Annie was next. Eren opened his mouth to speak, and Annie turned to leave the cabin. However, she was stopped at the door by Mikasa. Their eyes met. After a solid thirty seconds of silent staring, punctuated by Connie and Sasha's secret handshake still proceeding, Eren decided to leave the convincing to Mikasa.

Krista…Krista. Krista, who was not especially prone to violence; only getting worked up during games, via a complex combination of the hectic atmosphere and the sight of Ymir in a tank-top, cracking skulls together. Eren would have to take a different approach.

"…please?" he offered, hesitantly.

Krista seemed to consider the thought for a moment, then nodded, solemnly. "It's just not fair, is it," she whispered, shakily. She blinked back tears, and gazed up at Ymir. "They need to be stopped. They need to be _punished._"

"I have a boner," Ymir stated, frankly.

Mikasa appeared to still be convincing Annie, so that just left Jean and Marco. Marco shrugged helplessly, nudging Jean's shoulder.

"It can't hurt to at least sign up for the watch team," he said, reasonably. "And it'll only be for another week or two, until we're scheduled back home."

Jean sighed explosively. "Fucking _fine_, I just – are you two done yet!?" he suddenly yelled at Connie and Sasha, who were up to the butt-bump-while-rhythmically-yipping section of their handshake. The noise almost, _almost_ made the gentle, distant tinkling of metal escape Eren's ears. He lunged to the window, squinting through the darkness. Behind him, he felt the rest of the team gather to peer curiously over his shoulder.

"That was my Titan trap," Eren whispered, urgently. "Set 'em up right after nightfall, outside the storage building. _Told_ you they'd come."

"So what do we do now?" Jean hissed back. "I hope to god that you got us some baseball bats, or shovels, or a fucking _flashlight_—"

"You've got your fists! Let's move out!" Eren raced out of the cabin, a stampede of his teammates' feet thundering behind him. The shadowed figures milling around the supply building jolted at the sound and sight of a gaggle of shrieking teenagers closing in on them, and fled into the woods, dropping their ill-gotten goods as they went. Eren roared and bounded into the trees after them, scrambling over logs and tripping over rocks in the darkness. The lights that the thieves carried scrambled further and further away, until he finally lost sight of them, tripping over one final log in an angry, screaming heap. Armin raced to his side, pen-light glowing; the only one who came prepared, per usual.

"Eren," he whispered, urgently. "Those people didn't look like the Titans. Or teenagers at all. This is dangerous; we have to get back to camp to tell the coaches…"

Eren tried to climb to his feet, unsuccessfully – a twisted ankle, how fucking cliché. The rest of his team had caught up, by that point; fuck, what a sight he made, being dragged up by Mikasa and nearly draped across her shoulder. Loathe as he was to absolve the Titans of any suspected wrongdoing, he had to agree with Armin, in retrospect; the shouts of the thieves were too hoarse and old, the bodies too stocky. It was just a straight line back to camp, but to come back empty-handed, with a screwed-up foot, it was—

Eren's thoughts stopped dead at the sound of a gun cocking.

"Fuckin' brats," growled one man. Shotgun at the ready, he and his associate crept closer to the group. "Get down on the fuckin' ground, hands on your heads."

What choice did they have? Eren cursed himself over and over as Mikasa lowered him to the ground, and positioned herself between him and Armin and the men, protecting them as best she could. Even Mikasa looked scared. Fuck, they were just a bunch of fifteen-year-olds being threatened by two assholes with guns. Eren looked over at Armin, at the way his shoulders shook, at the tiny, colorful bracelet on his thin wrist. Armin had a future, he was going to go study in Australia, why, why, _why_ did Eren do this to him –

"Bet your parents will pay us real nice for babysitting you little fuckers for a while. Bunch of rich little brats at camp, ain't ya?" One of the men stomped over in his filthy boots to Armin, and yanked him up by the hair. Armin's choked-back scream made Eren's blood boil with rage and terror, and only the press of a shotgun barrel at the back of his neck made him go back to his knees. "Yeah, got your little girlfriend. Start marching."

It was difficult to keep up with the man dragging Armin along by the hair with his ankle, but letting him out of his sight was not an option. Eren caught sight of Jean glaring at him, and fuck, did he not deserve it for once. God. If they – no, _when_ they made it out of this alive, he would just hold Armin tight forever, and do everyone's cleaning work for three months.

After what seemed like ages, they came to a run-down shack in a clearing. The man dragging Armin paused, spat, and whirled around to face his associate. Something tore its way into Eren's heart at the sight of the pain and fear on Armin's face; something deep and ugly, that he didn't think would ever stop hurting.

"Why the fuck did you let me bring 'em all along!? We can't fit 'em all in here!"

"Shit, I dunno, what else did you wanna do? Shoot 'em on sight?"

"That might've been less trouble. They're a handful to take care of; did you want us to give you pointers?"

Eren's heart lifted at the sight of Hanji casually opening the door of the shack, inspecting the gun in her hand with a careful eye. His eyes scanned the dark clearing for any sight of Levi.

The man yanked Armin close to him again, brandishing his shotgun threateningly. "One false move and the kid's a fist mist at this range! Who the fuck are you, and what'd you do to the rest of my team in there!?"

Hanji held up her hands. "We're just a ragtag sports team from a local school district, here for summer camp. The little scamps were missing during bedcheck, and well, I decided to go on a walk to look for them; make sure there wasn't any teen pregnancy in progress…"

As Hanji went on, the man's associate was suddenly swept off his feet and dragged off in a flurry of motion, with barely a whisper of sound. The man himself was too on-edge to notice the absence. Eren swallowed hard. If he could just get Armin away from the man, the nightmare would be all over; he would take that fucking shotgun himself and smash it into the man's disgusting fucking face until he was nothing, nothing at all except for bone and red.

"…and then I noticed that my little pets had gone missing too! That's not like them, they're usually very well-behaved, and so when I happened upon this clearing and noticed that they'd eaten your friends, I figured that they probably had a reason. They're very good judges of character, you know."

Two very, very well-fed pythons happily slithered out of the shack. The man let out a panicked shriek, and whirled the sights of his shotgun on them; Armin quickly took the opening to stomp on the man's foot and tear himself from his loosened grip. Levi was on him in an instant, downing the man with a swift blow to the back of his head. He cuffed the man's hands behind him, and – wait, cuffs? Eren then saw the handful of police creeping from behind the trees. Eren stumbled to his feet, staggered to where Armin lay shaking on the ground, and wrapped himself around him, feeling the apologies come sobbing from his mouth. Two more arms wrapped around them both, soothing.

"It appears Hanji was misleading that man as to the fate of his associates. She seems to have subdued them prior to our arrival; they're being led from the shack by the police as we speak," Mikasa said, narrating for herself just as much as Eren and Armin.

"Good," Eren choked out. "That lets me do the job _myself_—"

Mikasa tightened her grip, holding him down. "Stay down. Armin needs you."

He felt Armin's hand seize his wrist, grasping at the bracelet there. Eren felt his heart sink, and he buried his face in Armin's hair.

"…I don't suppose they recognized you, in your current attire."

Eren glanced up, blinking through his tears. The head policeman was speaking to Levi, and Levi looked more relaxed than Eren had ever seen him. He was even _smiling_, a little.

"Yeah, well, I look different when I'm not wearing a vinyl catsuit," he said. "Figures that I'd run into some of the fuckers I knew way back when, now that I'm doing the undercover gig."

"You made quite an impression in that catsuit, back then. Though I cannot say that I wouldn't recognize you out of it."

There was Levi _smiling_ again; sweet fuck was that weird and creepy. Hanji was checking over the other students for injuries, for their emotional state; she knelt by the pile Eren and Mikasa had made over Armin, and put a careful, gentle hand on Eren's shoulder.

"Eren. How are you feeling? Can I check you and Armin over?"

"Him first," Eren whispered. He disengaged from his protective curl around Armin just enough for Hanji to card her fingers through his hair, looking for scrapes, bruises. Armin's eyes met hers, and something seemed to pass between them. Hanji gave a thin smile, looking away.

"Undercover work. Me and Levi both work with the cops on the side on stuff like this. We'd known that these jerks were on the lam, but not in this area, otherwise we never…"

She paused, hands settling on her knees.

"…I can't tell you how sorry I am that we got you kids tangled up in this."

"But, it was with their help that we were able to bring these men to justice," said the head policeman. He bent to offer his hand to Eren for a handshake. "Police Chief Erwin Smith. If you and your teammates hadn't drawn off those two attackers, Hanji here would have been overwhelmed, and wouldn't have had the time to restrain their associates. She herself may have been wounded, or even killed, otherwise. You have all of our thanks."

Eren looked from Erwin's hand, to Armin, unsure. Krista sprang to her feet, a desperate sort of cheerfulness about her.

"Goooooo team!" she cried. "Scouts ride again! Say it with me, Bertholt!"

"G-g-g-g-g-g-go t-t-t-t-t-team," stammered Bertholt. He was soaked through with sweat and tears, and Reiner rubbed at his back, trying to soothe him.

"I swear to god, Jaeger. If you ever, _ever_ pull this shit again, I am ripping out your spine and flying it off the school flagpole," Jean said.

"If you really want to get down to it, this really isn't the worst trouble we've all been in," Marco said, reasonably. "Remember when we were washed down the river after the county dam broke? That one was your fault, Jean."

Jean choked, trying to defend himself. "L-look, I think we were _all_ a little at fault for the failure of the rowing team…"

"…no, it was mostly you."

"Yeah, well, Ymir—"

"Dude," Ymir stopped him with a wave of her hand. "If whatever you were gonna accuse me of beats us nearly drowning and then having to fight off bears in the woods for a week, I'd be glad to hear it."

"It was only two bears!"

"Why don't we continue having this argument back at the campsite?" Hanji offered, helping Eren and Armin to their feet. She tsked at the sight of Eren's swollen ankle. "We'll get everyone patched up, and then it's midnight s'mores madness night!"

"That's my favorite night!" Sasha shrieked, excitedly, the stress of the last hour already gone from her features.

At her insistence, Eren leaned his weight against Mikasa as they all trudged back to camp. Armin's hand clutched his in a vice grip, his walk stiff and overly-controlled. Eren rubbed his thumb over his knuckles.

"…Armin."

"I'm fine," he said, quickly. "Just. It's been a long night."

"…I am so, so sorry, I can't even—"

"_Eren_. You couldn't have known that would happen. Just…" Armin paused, and curled in closer to them as they walked. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Eren nodded so hard he felt like his head would fall off. "Of course, that's not even something you have to _ask_…"

Hanji crept up behind them, and thumped their backs genially. "Come and see me if you two need protection!" she trilled, winking. "No teen pregnancy on my watch!"

Eren had no doubts to Hanji's sincerity on the subject, but really, all he wanted to do when they got back to camp was to get off his fucking ankle and climb into bed with Armin and just – just hold him, tight. It had been a long night, and he was so, so tired.

Armin's head came to rest against his arm, and they all walked, watching for the camp's lights to flicker from between the trees.


End file.
